It's a Beautiful Day

I've just spent the last half hour laughing until I had tears rolling down my face.

Michael now has a blog.

I'm extremely protective of him so I'm not quite ready to reveal his address yet, but it's awesome.

A hint about its title though...

Michael has always liked to follow in my footsteps. I played softball growing up. He aspired to play softball. I played a video game signed in as Julia the Shit. He signed in as Michael the Jerk.
Well, yesterday, I was setting up his blog for him and I asked him what he wanted to name it. He knew that mine is called Car Alarms Are Really Sensitive, so let's just say that car alarms are really sensitive because cars are really delicate.

Here's my favorite post of his so far:

Working at a Car Wash place and places I work at

If I ever got offered a job at "Prowash" I would take it. I love to help out to do the codes. And I have done them in the past before I hurt my hand. I can even help to tell every driver what to do. I always wanted a job like that. I would like to work Part-Time. I am currently working at a big firm office called "Mckinsey and Company " every Tuesdays and Thursdays and stock sodas, juices,waters, upstairs and downstairs. And I do filing and copying. I also work at "The New Orient Restaurant" every Saturday of each week. I work at Mckinsey and Company for a full 2hrs and I also work at The New Orient Restaurant for an hour.

And I also work at The New Orient Restraunt 1hr every Saturday of each week. I count up checks, take orders and help bring the food out to the customers. I can definitely work at the Prowash in Fremont,CA by 680 south. I want to work after school is over. I will be graduating Tuesday June 20, 2006. I am good at doing everything. I will work after Tuesday, June 20, 2006. That is when I am out of school. I will be on time everyday to work. And last but not least I am ready to work any day of the week, except on holidays.

Minutes of fun...

Today I had a rough day. Something is bothering me but I'm not exactly sure what. On the surface it was fine. I enjoy stress, actually. It's a guilty pleasure.

Then there's the old one working at the mall. The new one...whoever the hell he is. A work environment that occasionally feels hostile, occasionally feels at home, I can't commit to either. Some days I don't know whether to laugh or cry but it's a delicious feeling when you find the perfect balance between both, a bittersweet edge that feels as satisfying as watching a skateboarder screetch across a rail with a trail of flying sparks.

I was reunited with an old professional acquaintance today (but is it really professional when they're touching you?) and he seemed sad. Sad to hear I was busy and sad that he wasn't because business hadn't been so great. I think we are humbled by people from our past who step back into our lives, because they are the only ones who can really evaluate us by comparing us to who we were.

I don't know. I don't know if I was different. I haven't been back there in so long. Maybe something changed in me, or maybe I've always been this way and I'm now coming to terms with it. I just don't want you coming any closer.

Human beings have always been fascinated with the notion of a "message in a bottle." These cryptic messages pose a mystery about an unknown place and person...an entire foreign world that the finder's imagination tries to will into existence by materialising it on the same plane or frequency as his or her reality.

I would love to some day be artistically involved in a project that allowed me to see different modern-day depictions of robots. I think that's one reason I like sf brian's drawings so much. I've got such a thing for robots. But I guess it's an Asian thing, huh?

Is it weird that I just had my face in my hands whispering, "Robots. Do you wanna be a robot?" And I suddenly realized my brother was right next to me, because he whispered back, "Yesss..."

I always wanted a big brother.

People who yo-yo diet are the ones who have physiques where the body fat gathers unevenly in targeted areas. Typical A-types, and the B-types who love them.

The Bucket of Truth

The Upright Citizens Brigade did a whole skit on it. Raw, unadulterated truth. Raw, unadulterated truth is purely devastating, in that it questions everything you've always thought was real...the tiny assumptions that meld together to form your entire, private subjective world.

I was driving to the Clippers/Wizards game on Friday and I don't remember how it came up, but my roommate said, "I have something shameful about [your ex] that I never told you."

He said, "It was around Christmas time last year and I went into Banana Republic...and he was working there. I almost wanted to walk up to him and say, 'Nice nametag.'"

hehe

I love that Brian deemed it "shameful." Because my ex is the same arrogant, obnoxious guy who powertripped and always talked about how much money he made as an SAT instructor and thought he was hot shit because he was the right-hand man in a tiny company. Who, after a conversation with my uncles that included him saying that he came out to LA to be an actor but found himself unable to leave SAT instruction because it was a "lucrative business," prompted my family to tell me that he seemed too materialistic and full of himself.

I'm sure he was working at the BR for the discount. Which seems like a strange thing to do, for someone who loved to boast about making close to six-figures a year...

A review about a local apartment complex from a current resident:

On numberous occasions I have been offered drugs by inhabitants of building #3. Even though I say no and walk away from them, they follow me to my door.

Just last night one of the gang bangers told me, "I want to suck your tits and ---- you all night long." I have informed management about this and they said, "that's not our problem."

I'm sorry. I just love Stewart.

Stuff

I figure I'll call this post "Stuff," because on our work schedule for this week, it said we'd be starting our week on Monday morning with a "Stuff Meeting." And indeed, we talked about stuff over croissants and coffee. Nice typo, guys.

Today I'm thinking about interracial relationships.

My parents are open-minded for Chinese parents. In college, they watched me swerve way from business school and major in film and english without uttering a single word of criticism, which shows a great deal of open-mindedness and trust that didn't go uncriticized by their parental peers. They graciously allowed me to explore an avenue that grated against their own practical senses. But the one thing that they're not so keen on is the arena of interracial relationships. They've already gotten used to the idea that the man I'll eventually marry may not be Chinese, a notion supported by the fact that I've never brought a Chinese boy home (not because I'm not attracted to Chinese men, but because they rarely approach me in a romantic manner. I've only gone out with 2 Chinese guys [totalling 2 dates] in my life). So over the years, they've revised their stance to--they would obviously prefer if I married a Chinese man, but they would be okay with someone Jewish or white.

Now, I've never been one who liked other people being the boss of me and limiting my options. I may not necessarily want to do something, but if you tell me I can't do it, then by God I am going to fight for the right to do it, just so I have that option even if I'll probably never use it.

My mom and I are very close but our most bitter fights revolve around interracial dating. She feels that if I wanted to date someone, say, black, I should "just be friends." But I definitely shouldn't marry them because "your children will have a rough life because of racism." Her main point isn't that she doesn't like black people, but that, as someone who loves me, she doesn't want me (or my kids) to deal with the ugly end of racism if I don't have to. It's a strange example of maternal protectiveness. The thing that's bizarre is that she cares a great deal about the black community. She's always donating computers to low-income school districts and starting educational/outreach programs. She's always said that when she retires, she wants to work specifically with the education of poor African-American kids to help them rise up in the face of an unlevel playing field. But yet, she'd have a fit if I brought home someone black.

We tend to clash over this quite often. I'm always asking her, "Well if you had to choose, would you rather that I brought home a woman...or a black man?" And she gets really pissed when I get mad at her either way, citing that this shows that her love is conditional. Part of me wants to bring home a black woman just to really fuck with her. But I hate that she's intelligent and caring and kind and yet, there's this "thing" that just drives me crazy.

But then I thought about this--if I were to bring home a black man that treated me incredibly well and was everything I've always wanted in a partner, then it would be hard to ignore that I'm happy and this person is clearly a good person. But what if, down the road, that person fucked up? What if he cheated on me, turned into a jerk or turned out to be financially irresponsible or draining? Then it becomes this thing where my family can act like I-told-you-so, based solely on the color of his skin. A guy could be Chinese or white and possess the same good traits, but the moment things go sour, it's unfortunate. But if the guy is someone who is already fighting an uphill battle because he's gotta be a saint to get my family to look past the color of his skin, and then he turns out to be a fuck up, then it only affirms their mistaken blanket stance on race. That's a lot of weight to place on a partner's shoulders. And it makes me angry at how stupid prejudice is. Expecting a person to carry the weight of an entire group on his shoulders, with every action scrutinized. It's so unfair.

*****
I was out until 4am last night. I went to a surprise birthday party at Boardwalk 11 (a karaoke bar). This girl was rocking out to a Journey song, totally into it, doing high kicks and straddling the mic stand like she should have had teased hair and a leather one-piece jumpsuit. I was staring at her in awe and admiration and said to the guy next to me, "My God...I think she has a penis." And she must have heard because she looked over, looked me in the eye and shook her head, not missing a beat. THAT. Is commitment to character.

So I'm really tired and all my posts today have probably been written poorly, for which I apologize. I'll go over them later. In the meantime, I'm supposed to be writing an article about the self-storage industry, which is fucking boring. I've realized that even when these articles get published and they send me a copy, I don't even read them. I'm so bored with the subject that I can't even get through my own article.

That's pretty sad.

*****
Michael is coming into town today. He'll be staying with me for 10 days. I'm sure there will be anecdotes to come.

*****
I've lost my exercise priveleges. Hurt my back again so I'm banned from working out for 2 weeks. I'm going crazy. I can FEEL my fat cells multiplying. You fat fuck, I hear myself saying. Just go to the gym. Shoot some baskets but just walk after the ball. YouR doctor will never know if you don't tell him.

But it's sick. It's an addiction. I'm an exercise junkie, the worst kind of junkie, the ones that never even get to find themselves passed out on a dirty mattress in a crackhouse with a dead hooker on the ground next to them.

*****
Good God, I'm so sleepy.

I've always said that I don't really believe in predictive astrology (or astrology that predicts events) versus psychological astrology, which I think is a powerful tool for self-awareness and therapy, but then I read certain things and they blow me away.

I was in the shower this morning and I suddenly remember reading a previous monthly horoscope from Astrology Zone which provides very well-researched and detailed monthly horoscopes. I remember it had said something about unexpected tension at home. Seeing as things were completely fine with my dad and completely blew up last month, I looked up last month's horoscope. I've already posted that other one I found that was uncanny. This one was crazy, too.

Despite the lovely tone to this month, the full moon on February 24 may cause tensions to arise at home. This full moon will fall in Virgo in your home and family sector, in opposition to Uranus. Virgo is not an easy placement for you.

The problem is, Uranus will send a direct challenge to this full moon. Whatever comes up will be something completely unexpected. Try to keep your schedule light around this time, for you won't want to be distracted with too much office work. If your actual physical home is not the problem, it will have something to do with a family member, roommate, or someone connected to your home, such as a landlord, decorator, contractor, or broker. If you have any situation brewing at the start of the month, try to get a handle on things before the full moon's complicated dynamics come into play.

Full moons either bring a finish to an endeavor (in this case, such as a move or renovation) or bring feelings to the surface (for you this month, in your relationship with your Dad or another person connected to home or family).

That timing was that week after I came back from being up north when my dad went out of his way to ignore me and I realized how much shit I was carrying from growing up with him that wasn't even mine.

I think astrology gets a bad rap from those stupid unresearched blurbs in newspapers and magazines. Most of it is just analysis of patterns based on thousands of years of data and observations.

I Found It!

The thing that drove me nuts in Switzerland because I had fallen asleep and left the TV on, and every 10 minutes, this came on (open the file for "The Annoying Thing." I believe it was an ad for ringtones). It was driving me crazy, yet I was too lazy to get up and turn off the TV. I must have heard it a good 18-20 times.

Oops...

Update

I met with the potential producer and the line producer yesterday. The producer and I were talking about trust and responsibility and I was saying how I need someone I can trust is taking care of the things he's supposed to take care of so I can concentrate on the things I need to focus on, and how I see everything from the perspective of teamwork, and he was telling me how he's very trustworthy--he once sailed a boat to the arctic and in that situation, you learn that you have to recognize that every person's actions affect everyone else, sometimes in life or death situations in the face of a hurricane or things, and that that was a situation where he understood the value of being trustworthy and responsible. And I'm like, dude, you sailed a boat to the arctic? I...played sports. The earliest he's available is August because he's about to be greenlit for a feature shooting in June, but I'd like to work with him so I might wait until August for the short. It'll give me more time to raise funds and prepare, anyway.

Working with the Actors-- Gameplan

I'm so excited about working with actors. This is my favorite part, the melding of psychology and creation. I'm very method and like actors with that background. The way I want to work with the two leads who have a very strained marriage with passive-aggressive resentment (the man cheated on the wife), is to put them through a simulated therapy, with me as the therapist. When I work with actors, they need to be able to be so immersed in their characters, any question I ask them about themselves, they will be able to instinctively answer and know it jives with the truth. What was your biggest fear as a child? What is your darkest secret? How do you feel about where you are in your life at this very moment? Is it where you thought you would be when you looked towards the future when you were younger? What do you like for breakfast? What is a trait about your best friend/wife that you secretly find utterly irritating? What kind of people are you secretly prejudiced against? etc. And then once they get comfortable answering these questions (more so with the act of answering and knowing that what they said was true than the actual answers themselves), then I tweak it by asking them questions that imply certain things that they have to adapt to, implying events, like, "How did you feel when your husband told you he'd cheated on you?" etc. This plants certain things in their characters psyche, which affects their psychological outcome and performance.

I want to work with them separately, fine tune their own characters without the other knowing what exactly has been created, build up their positions, discuss their marriage and their resentment of the relationship and their partner from their own subjective perspectives, really delve into that resentment. Then put the two together. I don't want each person to know what the other has said about him or her. But because it's been talked about, it'll color their interaction. It's like, each person knows the other talked shit about him. But they don't know exactly what, creating an underlying tension and resentment. Furthermore, I plan to keep them fairly separated throughout the preproduction process and during production. During the "therapy" stage, I'll schedule one after the other with a slight overlap, keeping the other waiting in another room so each person is well aware that the other is talking about them. I also plan to have an exercise where they sit together in an empty room facing each other, but aren't allowed to say a single word to each other. I'll do this the first day, make them as uncomfortable around each other as possible. Since this couple is passive aggressive, by the actual actor not knowing exactly what the other resents him or her for or where the other is coming from, it should create a genuinely passive-aggressive and tense interaction to work with, which is what I need to carry this film. And then we can all go out for beers when this is done.

I'm so freakin' excited.

Rejection

I watched Remember the Titans for the first time tonight. What an awesome, uplifting movie! I'm partial to sports movies anyway, but not since Monster's Ball have a cried like that while watching a movie. It's such an inspirational story, with amazing characters. The fact that it's based on a true story just makes it.

Afterwards, I was watching the DVD features and they talk with the screenwriter. He tells a story about how, after writing the script, his agent said, "If this doesn't sell, we're in the wrong business," and then they go out with it, and it tanks. It was turned down by every studio, even multiple times by some, and everywhere they went, they only got a "No." The screenwriter talks about how he was trying to drum up the courage to tell the guys that the movie was based on that no one in Hollywood was interested in making their story, when Bruckheimer called and asked to see it, and it all went from there. They get a sound byte from Bruck saying how sometimes, you just need one person to believe in a project to get it rolling.

What an amazing story. If you've seen the movie, then you know that in itself, the events are wonderful and tragic and uplifting. But to hear that such a great tale was rejected over and over by the powers that be in Hollywood, is a reminder that as a writer (or director or actor or whatever you are), you can't let that stuff get you down. You can't take the No as a reflection of your work. You just have to believe in it, and sometimes, things that seem dead in the water are given new life when the timing is right. You just have to keep the faith.

Anyway, if you haven't seen the movie, watch it.

Why Brian is a dialogue-machine:

(on his co-worker being in Amsterdam):

"He's probably smoking some hash right now while watching some skank juice oranges with her cooter."

Last Night's Dream

I was in my high school, which was actually this large, multi-level building like a large mall rather than the flat shitspread that it actually is. There had been a serial killer loose there for a while, and I was the criminal-behavioral psychologist who had been profiling him. I had recently made public statements that the killer was a latent homosexual and most likely impotent, trying to rile him up and push him into making a mistake.

I was hanging around the school, hoping to catch him lurking when I saw some people suddenly screaming and running. Knowing it was him and that he had been pushed into a killing spree in broad daylight, I tried to sneak into the area to try to catch a glimpse of him. Unfortunately, he saw me and started chasing me. We ran through the halls and up stairs and he was one level behind me. I knew that if I slowed down even a little bit, he'd catch me. He was a tall, lean guy in his 30's, very wiry and fast (looked like that dude from Scissor Sisters but not flaming). So we're running and I'm on the verge of getting away by faking him out and going down another staircase rather than up and creating distance between us, when for reasons I had no idea, I decided to stop running, even as my brain screamed, what the fuck are you doing?!?

I stopped and turned around abruptly. He came running around the corner and stopped, looking kind of confused but nevertheless, thrilled with his good luck. He approached me menacingly.

I said to him, "I know you've been watching me and the things I've said about you in the press. We've been playing a little cat and mouse game, haven't we? But let's be honest--you didn't come here to kill me. You came here to fuck me."

And sure enough, there was that sexual tension sitting between us that was now out in the open and on the table and boom...he rips off his shirt and that man was ripped.

So we're back at my parents house, in my room, having sex, but rather than this being a sex dream, I'm in my head thinking...the impotence was a profiler bluff but the homosexuality was something I believed to be a part of his profile. And here I was having unprotected sex with him. So I asked him if he'd had unprotected sex with men and he said he'd been with two men. I asked him if he'd been tested and he said no. And I flipped out that I was at risk.

Dawn was breaking and I knew I had to get him out of my house before my parents woke up so I walked him out, but when I came back in, I saw my mom wandering the hall in her pajamas. I could tell she was looking for me because she had probably looked into my room to check on me as a mom thing that she does and had seen that I wasn't in my bed. I was also worried that she had noticed, um...stains on the sheets or something and would know what I had been up to.

I Own It!

I have been hesitant to post about this since originally talking about it because I didn't want to jinx anything...but it finally came in the mail today and it's official: I now own the rights to the story, "A Good Head for Murder" by Charles Runyon. The signed agreement from his agent just came in the mail today!

The next step is filming it. There's a Michigan film competition in June that I want to try to get in for. Prize is $2,000 worth of Fuji film which would help me out with the feature I'm trying to put together at the end of this year, but who knows...maybe the thing is rigged anyway since they all know each other in the U-M coalition. I'm meeting with a producer tomorrow to talk about these projects and he seems really cool--a down-to-earth Australian. I've got a line producer who's going to break it down soon so hopefully, we can shoot in the next month and I can have it done by June. I'm psyched!

In case you're wondering, the story isn't about a blowjob gone wrong. It's about a woman and man in a strained marriage, who are driving down a dark, desolate rural road in Mexico when they start seeing what may or may not be severed body parts lying on the road. It's a pretty freakin' cool story.

Stay tuned!

3/18/04 Crime Notes

Palo Alto, CA-- A cellphone was stolen from a student's backpack at a local Palo Alto School. Student Michael Shih returned from lunch to find his Nokia cellphone missing from his bag; the theft was immediately reported. An extensive search enlisted the help of school staff but turned up no results. Later in the day, the owner of the phone called his own cellphone repeatedly in an attempt to pin down the identity of the thief, but calls were answered by an irritated woman who angrily asked the young man to stop calling her. The young man's sister has put in for a gang hit on this woman, and is asking that anyone with information on her identity, to report it through the underground.

This Week's New Releases:

12 Donkeys

Bruce Willis plays a man from the future who goes back in time to that fateful night in Tijuana, where an errant flying banana at a donkey show takes out his eye and gives him a case of eye-crabs that destroy his marriage. Unfortunately, he goes back too far and is mistaken for a male sex slave and is imprisoned by the club owner, so that on that fateful night, it is he who is the opening act that his past self is watching. See Meryl Streep's Oscar-Nominated performance as a pair of crotchless panties.

Dude, Where's My Colostomy Bag?

Aston Kutcher and Clint Eastwood pair up in this buddy comedy. After a nurse accidentally replaces Clint's oxygen with a tank of nitrous oxide, Clint and grandson Aston go on a binger to end all bingers, waking up with no clue as to where Clint's colostomy bag and Aston's acting career went. They attempt to retrace their steps while meanwhile, a group of evil alien models offer humans oral pleasure in exchange for a missing anal probe that turns its recipients into raving O.C. fans.


Kill Billy Elliot

After The Bride kills the man responsible for the deaths of her friends and fiance, she turns her vengeful eye on Billy Elliot, her too-cute-for-his-own-good childhood arch-nemesis from ballet class. Lucy Liu returns as a pair of evil leotards.

Animal Farmhouse

John Belushi is resurrected to find his beloved frat has been turned into a barn. He leads the animals in a revolution, decreeing that "All Keg Stands Are Created Equal, But Some Keg Stands Are More Equal Than Others," especially the one that leaves you naked in the trunk of a car, lying in a pool of your own piss. After making a pact with the pigs, the gang slaughters the other unsuspecting animals in their sleep and have a huge cookout with the all-wet-tshirt/all-the-time sorority down the street. Hillary Swank appears in a cameo as a horse.


4 Weddings and a Funeral and an Eye-Gouging and a Twelve-Dollar Blowjob From a Hooker in a Porsche

When Hugh Grant's constant eye-batting turns Andy McDowell violent after their first week of marriage, she gouges out his eye with an omelet spatula. Without his good looks, Hugh sinks into a dark depression that sends him on a downward spiral that begins with a twelve-dollar blowjob in the front seat of his porsche, and ends in a police shootout in a crackhouse in Detroit. Wackiness ensues.

Being Julia Robert's Bitch

A piercing documentary about the life of Danny Moder.

He. Tried. To. Hug. Me.

(i shouldn't even need to say who)

Whatever happened to Mighty Mouse? I'd like to see a live action version starring David Faustino titled, "30 Years and 30 Trips to Rehab Later."

I'm sitting here putting my 2004 financial picture in order because I'm heading over to H&R tomorrow, and I'm reminded how much I love this stuff, handling money. But I'm also reminded of how piss poor my organization is, since I always wait until the week that I'm supposed to go in to prepare taxes to actually go through my bank statements, checkbook and credit card bills to organize everything and inevitably, nothing ever balances because I have no idea what all these vague purchases and deposits were. And all I can hear in my head is my dad saying, "You're going to get audited."

And then I'm reminded that this Saturday is my rich uncle's 60th birthday, and my entire extended family will be here (all ninety of us), including my father. And how it's been about a month since I last spoke to him, and how he will probably be ignoring me, with my cousins coming up to me asking me why I can't be a more filial daughter since my poor old man looks so lonely getting drunk all by himself in the corner and harassing my baby cousins, as he's known to do at large family gatherings. And it makes me tear up, amid my sea of bank statements and receipts, because it's sad. But what has being compassionate ever gotten me with him? How far has digging deeper to find that lifeblood well of love gotten me with him?

I hung out with Urethra, her boyfriend and her visiting father a few weeks ago. We went to the House of Blues Gospel breakfast that featured an all-you-can-eat Southern brunch followed by live gospel music that put us all in not only a great mood, but gave us a need to dance in a way only Steve Martin from The Jerk could understand. The walk to House of Blues was about a mile each way, which we figured was to our benefit considering, again, it was an all-you-can-eat Southern brunch and Asians are the foremost experts in how to most efficiently (and gluttonously) attack a buffet. Walking there, I spent some time talking to Urethra's dad, who was a pleasant fellow and an easy conversationalist with plenty to say about basketball, television and anything random this Gemini could switch subjects to. I concluded, Urethra has a nice dad. And I realized, even though it's always been quite obvious, I do not have a nice dad.

It wasn't until recently that I thought about, if my dad weren't my dad, what would I think of him? This is a question I have never really wanted to delve into with the needed objective perspective, as I didn't want to ruin the inherent love and need a daughter has for a father and frankly, I'm afraid of him. It's one of those deep-seated fears cultivated in childhood that even adult perspective, distance and intelligence can't quite shake. This one is rooted within the emotional muck deep inside a person that no logic or intellectualizing can quite force into more appropriate decorum. It belongs to that vulnerable little kid who exists within each and every one of us.

Last month, the therapist I went to see said, you can sit here and intellectualize and analyze and make a laundry list of grievances, but at the end of the day, you need to come to terms with that fact that plain and simple, you had a shitty father. I'm not saying he's a bad person, but he was a father who was too busy putting his own issues on other people and taking care of himself to take care of you, and you got gyped. And plain and simple, that really...sucks. So once you've recognized and grieved for that loss, you pick yourself up and do all the things you ever wanted to do because now...you're free. Because your life, your choices, are still in your hands.

And it all was too simple, but it finally seemed like something be done (overcome), probably because I'm finally in the right place to take this whole thing on.

My brother just happened to call right now, interrupting the post, and I was sitting here all stuffed up. I talked to my mom and told her I'm not going to the party on Saturday. I decided that while writing this post. Choices are just that easy and obligation ain't worth shit. Obligation is an invisible force that doesn't even exist, and being a slave to it at 26 is tantamount to being afraid of the dark or afraid of boogiemen under my bed. It's laughable. I told my mom that I'm so sick of my dad's act every time we're around his family, of him appearing so tortured because he has a family that just torments him with their lack of love for him, or the flipside, of him being the generous, gregarious uncle that everyone just loves, who's willing to big-brother everyone, willing to flash a hundred-dollar bill and buy cigars or expensive whine or an entire banquet meal, acting like he's finally found people he likes because my mom, my brother and I are such a shithead, disappointing family. After 26 years? Yeah, eat it.

When I was young, I would often wish my father would die, or mentally prepare for his death, telling myself it that at the end of the day, it would be for the best. I would always feel horrifically guilty about it, and I thought maybe this was a product of how he would always tell me that he had a heart condition or that we were causing him life-threatening stress, but usually, I thought I was a malicious little shit who had the capacity to wish people dead. And I felt guilty about it my entire life, how someone supposedly so nice and kind could think life would be better off without her father.

I reread that IM between my mom and I last night and that part where she says getting conditional love is worse than no love because at least with no love, you don't expect it, and it made me think about having a father--how having a father who was emotionally absent most times, often volatile and habitually emotionally and physically abusive is so much harder because you still have hope that one day, things will turn around and the love will come pouring forth; but if your father died, you would know that you no longer have a father, so you would mourn and move on. In hindsight, I don't think I wanted him dead, specifically. I think I wanted the not knowing to end; I think I wanted to be able to move on in my life, instead of always being stuck in one place, being stuck in the same precarious emotional state, of wondering if--I change, things change, he changes--suddenly things will open up and I'll have a paternal figure who loves and appreciates me. I was tired of the stress of thinking that I was the root of a slow miserable decline towards death anyway, because no one in my house seemed happy (trick mindfuck. We all die anyway). Dead father= no father. Easy to face. Live father who doesn't know how to love you = maybe something will open up tomorrow. And then you start to hate the part of you that holds on to hope, the part of you that's so STUPID and UGLY for believing in love and kindness, for clinging to despicable vulnerability.

Fuck that. Baggage whores are pussies.

If you can get away from the things on the outside, the things in your past, the people and things that claw out your faith in yourself, your purity of heart and your belief in the great love that connects everything in our universe, you give yourself the chance to be something special and powerful in this great big world.

So why not try?

Creative Differences

Sandra Oh and Alexander Payne are getting divorced. Amicably. Some words of advice to Alexander:

New pussy can't cook!

*****
Speaking of Sandra, here's my favorite performance of hers. It's from Six Feet Under, Season 1, when she plays a "Porn Starlet" giving a eulogy at a dead porn star's funeral:

Porn Starlet (Sandra):

When I first met Viveca, I met her on "Deep Diving."

[Everyone claps]

Thank you. And I had never gone down on a girl before, so, naturally, I was nervous, but Viveca was so warm and relaxed about it. She really put me at ease. Well, her and the two Zanex she gave me. (laughs) And when I first had to do a double penetration, I was like a total wreck. But Viveca came through like, you know, like such the pro she is...I mean was. (She starts to cry.)

I'm watching Smallville Season 1 right now, and the thing I don't like about the show, is how obnoxious the writers are about "Hey! We went to college!" Like the characters may as well be winking at the audience after they deliver their lines, so tickled are they over their own cleverness. For example, in the episode I watched last night, Lex gave Clark a fencing foil as a parting gift and said, "Every hero needs a foil." Get it? The literary foil gives the "foil" to the literary hero? I groaned and hid my face in a pillow, wishing I was watching "A Simple Life" right now. At least Paris and Nicole always say what they mean, and there is never, ever, EVER any cleverness involved.

*****
Girl Scout Thin Mints are the best cookies ever made.

*****
No wait, these chocolate chip cookies with chewy fudge centers that this hotel once left in our room were the best cookies ever made. But Girl Scout Thin Mints always make punching an 11 year-old girl in the braces worthwhile.

I made a shirt.

Confession

My new coworker has a twin brother. He showed me a picture of the two of them standing side by side along with some family members and said, sarcastically, "I bet you can't figure out who's who." So I'm looking at it and I'm really thinking, I have no idea which one is him and which one is his brother, since he has dreads now and in this picture, both of them are clean-shaven. So I'm about to laugh and say, "I have no idea" but he says, "It's so obvious, isn't it?" So I'm thinking, "Shit." It's obvious but obviously, I'm dumb.

I take a random guess and point at the taller one and say, "That's you, right?"

He says, "Who?"

I say, "That one," continuing to point at the tall one.

He says, "Who?"

And I continue pointing to the same person, but now I'm getting nervous.

Then, for some reason (luckily!), his angle must have been weird because he thought I was pointing to the girl in the photo. So he rips it out of my hand and says, "The girl? Very funny."

I found out later, I was pointing at the wrong guy.

My Dream Last Night (aka The Return of Coffee Bean Guy)

I was walking down these stairs leading to a cafe and my knee (which has had multiple surgeries) felt weak so I was holding the banister; it was a lot of work making it down those stairs because my knee felt like it was on the verge of giving out. I noticed there was a table at the bottom, and sitting there was Coffee Bean Guy, talking with some people. I hadn't seen him since our encounter when he invited me to his table and then ignored me, so still feeling slighted, I wouldn't look at him but I was trying to walk like a normal person, but my knee wasn't having it.

I get to the bottom and he looks at me and says, "I don't have time to talk." Totally insulted that he would think I had shown up just to talk to him, I say, "I wasn't going to." He replies, "I would like to though. I'm really glad you did last time. Isn't it funny how you can really want to do something but then get scared and don't know how? I was showing up hoping to see you every day but didn't know how to talk to you." This threw me for a loop so I just stared at him. He says, "If you have trouble approaching people, I can help you think up ways to approach people." Offended again, I say, "I'm normally a lot more outgoing and sociable. I just...had no idea what to make of you." Then this granola-y Mother-Earth type of woman sitting at his table says, "It must be hard approaching people when your knee's like that." I thought she meant "crippled" so I said, "Look. I play basketball 4 times a week." Then I look down at my legs and realize that I must not have been paying attention when I got dressed this morning because I was wearing one white athletic sock and one black dress sock, with shorts and dress shoes. I was totally embarrassed for being dressed like a retard but trying not to show it.

CB guy gets up and says, "Well, maybe we can talk again sometime." He gets in line for coffee which was where I was headed, but two people get in line just as I get there so rather than standing behind him, I'm standing behind the Mother-Earth chick. She looks like she wants to chat. So rather than talk to her, I call Urethra to tell her about CB guy and the latest freakish conversation.

I'm talking to her and I'm getting the feeling she doesn't want to talk about him. I figure it's because this guy is clearly weird and a freak, and she doesn't want me obsessing over someone who is clearly fucked up. I see that Reggie is trying to call in, but I don't feel like taking the call just yet, so instead, we chat about Ice Blendeds and fat content. We hang up and I call Reggie but it goes straight to voice mail. I ask him if he wants to hang out tonight. I realize that as I'm leaving the message, I'm walking across what looks like a facsimile of the University of Michigan campus, but I know it's in LA. I figure it's an extension campus, but my legs are getting so heavy and I'm still on the eastside of campus, so I duck into a building to rest.

Inside, is some kind of exhibition having to do with alcohol and drug abuse. Each exhibition is set up in what looks like a tiny cubicle. I walk into the one closest to the door and CB guy and that Mother Earth chick are there along with some random minglers. The walls have inspirational quotes having to do with alcohol abuse on these little cards all over the walls, as well as a lot of pictures. I overhear CB guy mentioning that this one guy who's in a lot of the pictures was his mentor. I pick up a hardcover book that contains quotes on the first page. CB guy tries to look over my shoulder so I show him that page, pointing to the quote and saying, "That's a good one." He grabs the book out of my hands and starts reading it. A red flag goes up in my mind that this guy lacks social skills.

The other people leave and it's just me and CB guy. My legs are tired so I sit on the ground, looking at the pictures. I'm looking at one of his mentor at a political demonstration and CB guy is telling me about being there and I'm thinking, this guy must have been an abuser for a while before he started working at the rehab house, when I notice that he's getting short of breath. I look over and see that he has taken off his pants and is wearing white briefs underneath, and that he's reached into them and started masturbating while scooting over towards me. I freak out. "What are you doing?!?" I ask him. He gets confused then says, "I'm sorry, I thought that's what we were headed towards." He puts his pants back on and starts making small talk, asking me, "Where did your lunar calendar start?" I'm confused and worried but trying to act like nothing's wrong; I think he's trying to ask me for my Chinese astrological sign when I'm thinking, doesn't the lunar calendar start around the same time every year regardless of the sign? "How old do you think I am?", I ask him. "28," he says. I'm relieved he didn't say 18 or something, making him a pervert [note: Because according to dream logic, the evidence hadn't made him a "pervert" quite yet]. He adds, "Which is about right based on family statistics in the U.S." "How old are you?", I ask. He doesn't say, just crawls over towards me and in my head, I hear my mom's voice echoing, "You choose your own future." I know I'm scared and uncomfortable, but I don't know how to extract myself from this situation.

Did I Ever Tell You the One About the Writer...

First of all, sorry for the length of time between posts. My computer has been debilitated by a virus. 59 pop-up ads in under 3 minutes! Nasty.

So I had this dream the other night where somehow, I misdialed on my cellphone and instead of whomever I was trying to reach, I accidentally called Kate, our resident Hot Librarian. So rather than saying, "Hey Kate, this is Julia, I'm sorry but I misdialed," I tried to disguise my voice and just said, "Sorry wrong number" before promptly hanging up. Then I spent the rest of the dream worrying if she recognized my voice.

When I woke up, this reminded me of a similar incident from my waking past.

In college, I wrote film, TV and book reviews for the school paper. One of the books I reviewed really spoke to me so on a whim, I decided to write the author a fan letter, telling him how much I appreciated the book and included a clipping of the four-star review. A few months later, to my surprise, the author wrote back and was equally excited, as apparently, I was his first ever fan letter. Thus began a steady correspondence as he found out that I, too, was a writer, and I found out that he lived in Berkeley which is 30 minutes away from my hometown. That summer, we arranged to meet face to face at a coffee shop in Berkeley. I was 19 and he was 39. I was painfully shy but I think he was excited to meet a fan, so we talked about writing and literature and life itself. We kept in touch and we met up again the next summer. I brought him my writing portfolio of short stories I had written over the last year at school. We chatted again, like old friends, and we talked a bit about our personal lives. Of course, being 20 and a bit of a social recluse, I didn't have much to say. I can't remember how personal his stories were but to be honest, nothing really fazes me. That night, I went home and tried to dial a friend of mine to see if he wanted to hang out. But instead, I dialed this writer's number. He picked up and I realized what I had done, but instead of identifying myself and telling him that I had misdialed, I just hung up.

Well, he *69'd me and called back. I picked up and hung up. He did it again so this time, I picked it up and I was like, "Hey, what's up?" He asked me why I called and I said, "I didn't call." He said, "Yes, you did. I star-69'd you." And I just said, "Oh." So instead, he started talking about liking my writing so it wasn't that big of a deal. Did I act like a retard? Yes. Do I have any idea why I acted like a retard? No. The actions of Ms. Julia often make no sense within the realms of this universe.

I always felt awkward about that episode and we lost touch for a while, until a few years ago, after I had been firmly entrenched in Los Angeles, I got an email from him. He explained that he happened to be googling women whom he'd wanted to sleep with but didn't get the chance to, and found some sites with my movie on it. So he wanted to say hi. I wrote back that I was happy to hear from him and asked him what he'd been up to.

Until a few days later, it hit me. Wait a minute...he had wanted to sleep with me?

I was the most clueless, innocent, naive kid, just meeting an author she liked, hoping to gain a mentor. It totally went over my head that he might have ulterior motives.

So the moral of my story is:

If you misdial someone you know, just identify yourself and say that you misdialed because chances are, they have Caller ID. And moms and dads--don't let your kids write fan letters to figures who are twice their age.

3/8 Recap

The highlight of my day was hearing from my good friend Rie out in Michigan. I hope things work out for her. Otherwise, I had to deal with a particular..."sour" personality at work who's like a little nipping lap dog but with a much more malicious personality. I can think of a very warm place that this person could go.

I met with a guy named Joey, a restaurant consultant, to talk about the ice cream place. He's a friend of my coworker's, a chef who's also opened a bunch of restaurants around the country. My coworker said we'd hit it off because I was looking for someone trustworthy, responsible and very serious, and...he likes Asian girls. Regardless, he seemed to know his stuff and so I'm waiting for him to come back with a proposal. Let's hope the estimate for this thing is under $100K. Because...you know...I don't have that kind of money. Damn the high cost of real estate in Los Angeles.

I came home, banged out a 12-page screenplay for a horror short, based on a short story by Charles W. Runyon, a story I randomly found in an old collection that I bought for 50 cents at Goodwill. Perhaps if I shoot this short, then I can find financing for my feature horror. What surprised me most today was that I wrote the whole thing in under 3 hours, including a half hour break talking on the phone, and then another half hour worrying about my uneasiness in regards to the idea of relationships. What surprised me least was that I wasted time that could have been used creatively on worrying about my uneasiness in regards to the idea of relationships.

I told someone once that when I get married, I want to live next door to my husband. Like, we have separate apartments, and we probably end up sleeping in the same bed most of the time, but we still have our own space and a place to go to be alone if we need it. He thought it was weird. I thought it made sense.

1. I'm in negotiations for a promotion, which includes long term commitment to my company and more responsibilities.
2. I want to start an ice cream concept with a 3-tier development plan ranging 5-10 years.
3. I want to shoot a movie.
4. I want to be in a relationship.

I've realistically put all of these things into motion. How am I going to find time to balance everything? I'm scared something bad is going to happen. It just seems like too much. But I've always been a workaholic. But out of the four, I know which one I'm usually willing to drop first. Men hate me. Sometimes I don't blame them.

And how are YOU guys???? I hope you're all having a great week! And that somewhere out there, you guys are smiling, if not outwardly, then in the warm, fuzzy place that counts. No, not there. Get your minds out of the gutter.

United Colors of Benetton Celebrate Failure


Last night Reggie, Kate and Cody (not pictured) came out to support Peyote in the weekly turtle races at Brennan's in Marina Del Rey. I am chagrined to announce that my turtle FAILED me. Yes, I know I promised him ice cream whether or not he won his heat, and yes, he was racing a size-class up against turtles twice his size who were crawling all over him at the beginning of the heat, scaring the hell out of him. But honestly, for him to be the only turtle who didn't even come out of his shell for the entire race? Shameful. My camera only had enough juice to take this one picture because I only charged it for 10 minutes before leaving the house. Hopefully, Kate, our resident hot librarian, will email me the picture of Peyote sitting at the starting line so I can share the failings of my spawn.

Peyote at Home



Shame, Peyote. Shame on you.

Sometimes I don't acknowledge people when they say nice things or when they extend an act of kindness. Because I'm afraid that I'll open my mouth to speak but instead, floodgates will open, and I'll start crying from sheer gratitude and amazement, and that will scare people away from ever being nice again.

Mirrors

When we go through life, everyone we've ever met and will ever meet will serve not only as a companion and a facilitator/player in our life lessons, but as mirrors. We learn who we are by looking into another person and recognizing their similarities and differences from our own, observations which we absorb and process for use within self-evolution and growth. When we find ourselves attracting the same kinds of people, there is a reason, something reflected that we need to be seeing but we just can't seem to grasp until finally, the day we do, we stop needing to attract those people into our lives (or if they are necessary mentor reflections, we learn to appreciate them).

My own process has revolved around the issue of conditional and unconditional love. I have a hard time recognizing love and positive regard as entities existing in a present form. If a person gets too close to me, I start worrying about what is love and what will be the conditions placed upon it. I can look at a person and say, okay, I know he used to like me, because he gave me a hug yesterday, but maybe he doesn't like me anymore. Maybe in the time between the last sign I got that he liked and respected me, I did something to make him lose that respect. I'll know how silly this sounds in my head and laugh it off, but it makes me resistant to moving forward. It makes me prefer to keep people at a distance, because my brain thinks, if our relationship is casual, they won't expect too much out of me and thus, they are less likely to be disappointed and to use that as a reason to turn away.

Yet, in my own dealings with people, this issue has made what I give people unconditional, sometimes to a fault. Acceptance of people and their uniqueness, their quirks, their flaws--everything is to be equally loved, appreciated and cherished, and mistakes are mandatorily forgiven because it's the intention that counts.

Bugs Butt made a very interesting comment a few days ago that I've thought a lot about, how he finds that people with trust issues are the most trustworthy. It seems that by almost a rule of human nature, once someone has experienced something that has caused them a great deal of pain, it rises to the forefront of their consciousness--either they stay oppressed by the experience and are driven to inflict the same hurt on others, or they grow beyond the experience and become acutely aware of never wanting to be the cause of the same hurt to others. Often, they will go out of their way to protect others from this pain.

I've talked to many counselors who always said to me, you need to treat yourself as well as you treat other people. But what if it doesn't come down to me treating myself as well as I treat other people? What if I do that already? The problem seems to be my trust in other people. Even if I could give myself unconditional love and positive regard, I would become a self-sufficient, independent being, because my distrust for the unconditionality of others would keep me separated from an external emotional/psychological network.

I happened to be thinking about all this this morning, when my mom IM'd me:

Mom says:
I talked to Sara, Michael's therapist at school. I mentioned about your father, you and Michael
Julia says:
ok
Mom says:
I mentioned about how when daddy was upset about something, he would refuse to talk to you and Michael. She immediately said, Love should not be conditional, only unconditional love will provide children the "safety".
Julia says:
yes, that's what my therapist said too
Julia says:
i feel that all love outside of you or Michael is conditional. I don't trust when people act like it's not.
Mom says:
Kids must know, if they mess up, parents will still love them.
Mom says:
Immediately, she continued, "Your daughter is going to find a man, an image to the father... Does [your husband] want her to be treated this way by her husband?
Mom says:
I asked her to talk to your Dad, she said she would.
Julia says:
when?
Mom says:
Dad was the one who went to school to see her periodically. So he would go for next appointment.
Mom says:
I also told her that, your Dad has never had any one who gave him "unconditioned love.". So, he did not know what that was. He has no one would love him even if he messed up.
Julia says:
yes
Julia says:
i won't find someone like dad
Julia says:
i was doing it for a while
Julia says:
but it was too fucked up
Julia says:
those guys are such assholes
Julia says:
so now i'm conscious
Julia says:
but i won't date. not until i'm sure about the nature of that person.
Mom says:
Good. But, remember, Mom will always love you and Michael, regardless what mistake you would make, and how messed up you could be. It's unconditional love.
Julia says:
yes, thank god i have you guys
Julia says:
I know someone who had a father who was absent. so i had a father who was dangerous to me (always changing so I had to be careful to read him or get hurt). so i am a fighter, always prepared to defend. i am always looking for danger i may need to fight before it can hurt me or see it so i can avoid it if possible. my friend is very gentle, kind but soft inside. he's not as defensive fight or flight, but is a little shy about asserting himself emotionally. It's interesting how having a volatile father versus no father creates different results.
Mom says:
My grandma gave me unconditional love. She is a person with very kind heart (soft), and very brave. She is not educated at all (no school). She was an orphan, and she took care of her sister. She married twice and both husband died earlier. But she was a woman of love. She spoiled my father, who unbelievably screwed up his life with gambling. Yet, my grandma still did everything for him.
Mom says:
When he got into his legal problem, her hair turned white overnight. I was sleeping next to her every night, I heard her sigh, her turning over on Tatami (japanese bed). Yet, she still loved my father. and she loved the grand children.
Julia says:
yes. thank god for her. at least people who have a good influence of unconditional love somewhere have a chance of surviving. those who dont' have any examples growing up will never know what it is and will struggle becoming complete.
Mom says:
I would scream and yell, telling her that her cooking was horrible, and I refused to eat. She would give me money to let me go out to eat. When we went to restaurant to have "won ton", she always told me she was not hungry. So, I turned out to be the only one eating. (Actually it was because she did not have money to pay for both of us to eat)
Mom says:
You were taken care by her twice in your babyhood. She came to the U.S. twice. But, I did not take too much care of her because I was busy. I hope she would forgive me.
Mom says:
She died 21 years ago, but every time I thought about her, I am still in tears (I have to stop now, people may walk into my office).
Julia says:
love doesn't count things--how much you give, how much you get. i think she was happy to see you happy , just as you are happy to see michael and i happy
Julia says:
that is enough
Mom says:
So, I know what unconditional love is. That's why I have someone to compare. (But Dad did not. So, he was wondering, he is much more responsible than his daddy, why no one appreciates him. He did not know that "conditional love" was upsetting sometimes more than "no love," since you would not expect at all from the latter.
Mom says:
At any rate, we both fully understand where it came from. So, I am glad that you would know what that is. Nothing about you and Michael have done, it's all himself.
Mom says:
True love will come. You will know when you meet him. Date if for fun. When true love comes, you will automatically be serious.
Julia says:
ok
Mom says:
I wish I had a friend like you when I was young. May be I would do a lot more things better, and my thinking would be much more clear.
Julia says:
sometimes it takes time and life experience to see things, not just the right people. People just serve as mirrors to help you understand yourself and your life, all in due time.

Did I do it on purpose?, she asked herself. And as it always had, the answer came back, I don't know.

Ice Cream

I want to open a high concept ice cream parlor, "high concept" in the sense that Coldstone's is high concept. The concept is unique, the overhead is fairly low, and the end goal is not to own and self-manage a store and keep it running for long-term profits, but to create a marketing concept and sell off the entire franchise within 5-6 years. The business plan is: 1. Establish market share. 2. Distribution of brand products. 3. Franchising.

I have no experience in this industry, no business degree, and other than a background in marketing and an innate workaholicism, I'm pretty much just a person with a lightbulb over her head. I have paranoidly kept this idea a secret for years but I would really, like to have a place like this to go to!

So stay tuned...

Whoa!

Check out this astrology trend for me that started on February 22nd, the DAY after I wrote that post about my dad and came back and realized that my life had just been given a new beginning:


Positive reforms

Valid during many months: This is a time of new awakening to a sense of what your life is about. Before this time you have been working to establish your sense of who you are in the community of adults, and by now you probably have a pretty clear idea about that. But you may also have discovered that what you are doing with your life is not entirely appropriate. You may conclude that in the past you were motivated by too narrow a conception of what you are, by a need for security, or simply by petty ego-drives. Now you will begin to see your life in terms of a larger perspective. You should do whatever is necessary to make sure that you can live according to this new understanding.

This influence does not arouse your sense of idealism particularly, but it does make you see that the universe is a very large place, and you are a much larger part of it than you have realized.
You may be attracted to rather mystical ideas, but they will have meaning only according to how they affect your everyday world. At this time you don't need more abstractions to chase around ­ you need to make positive reforms in your life. And you will do so!

This influence will cause you to cut away your past and reorient your life in accordance with the larger vision you have now. The many changes that occur may seem somewhat scary, but they are ultimately for the best. You will find new freedom in a new consciousness.

Neptune Sextile Neptune
activity period from 22 February 2005 until middle of December 2006

I just got to the episode where Tony shows up to help Jack and they go back to his place. Jack expositions that Tony's become an alcoholic since going to prison, getting pardoned, being left by his wife, etc. Then Tony gets a beer, pours it into a coffee mug (his ever-present Cubs mug) and with the bottle in one hand, drinks the beer from the mug with the other.

I couldn't stop cracking up.

I asked Reggie who was watching it with me, "Why's he drinking his beer from a coffee mug?"

He said, "Because he's Tony."

And that pretty much made sense. I'm so glad Tony's back. I think if Carlos Bernard had complete freedom with the character, Tony would be a riveting oddball.

And Tony's gut this year...good Lord. Is he hanging it out on purpose to emphasize how he's let himself go? It's so prominently featured, it's like his trusty sidekick.

Lastly, have any of you noticed how Jack and Tony are like the Siegfried and Roy of kickass? They're the greatest love story never told.

I'm so glad Tony's back.

Random Oscars Thoughts

I have a superpower. It's called, The Ability To Consistently Not See Any Best Picture Nominees.

Now I see a good 30-40 movies in the theaters each year. Considering that out here in LA, buzz travels quickly and you get a good read on what movies are contenders for the Big O and which ones are gunning for it; I try to ride that buzz and see the movies that have a chance. But yet, every year, I manage to see every other movie except any of the nominees for Best Picture. The Titanics, Lord of the Rings and Million Dollar Baby's of the world...I'm sorry I missed you. I was spending money on the likes of The Other Sister, Johnny English and Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle (yes, I believed all of these were contenders). Chicago? I hate musicals. English Patient? You looked boring. Braveheart? Heard you were 3 hours long.

So this year, I tried to at least see one of the nominees so I could somewhat weigh in on Oscar night. I wanted to see Million Dollar Baby, but opted for The Aviator, which, let me tell you, is the WORST choice of a movie to see at 10pm on a Friday while running on a sleep deficit. It was gorgeous, the acting was great, and the subject matter was quirky. But I couldn't tell if it was my being so tired that made me think it was an hour too long, or if it was in fact, really boring in parts.

So based on word of mouth and my own experience of The Aviator, it sounded like Million Dollar Baby was the best of the bunch, though many felt that the academy owed it to Scorsese, making him a shoo-in for winning. And then he gets shafted again.

This is what I think, Martin Scorsese, director of such film school staples as Raging Bull, Taxi Driver and Good Fellas. For your next project:

Shit in a paper bag and put it on a three-legged hot-pink Formica kitchen table, next to a mechanical toy monkey clapping his cymbals and a framed signed headshot of The Snapple Lady. Set up a stationary camera and film it continuously for six hours. In the final 2 minutes, set it on fire as Pauly Shore, the fat girl from Wilson Phillips and a naked Matthew McConaughey con bongo drums dance around the table. Maybe even throw in the Taco Bell chihuahua wearing a southern belle outfit. Have a soundtrack of a children's choir chanting, I don't want no coconuts, coconuts are hair-y, I don't want no coconuts, coconuts are hair-y... over and over getting progressively louder until you smash cut to black, fading back in on a hand-scrawled, used napkin reading, "Fin...a film by Martin Scorsese."

Trust me. You're gonna win it all next year.

Lastly, Clive Owen didn't win. I'm beyond upset.